


Little Monsters

by chinchillasinunison



Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Body Horror, Character Turned Into Vampire, Gen, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Trypophobia, Vandalism, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-03-10 21:21:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13510029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chinchillasinunison/pseuds/chinchillasinunison
Summary: On All Hallow's Eve, in an act of mischief typical to the holiday, our rag-tag group of boys semi-accidentally destroy a grave site said to be haunted by the ghost of a vengeful witch. This could only turn out well for them. Surely.





	1. Mostly Tricks and Not Enough Treats

Ralph awkwardly fumbled with the plastic vampire teeth in his mouth with his tongue as he and Simon stood outside the candy shop, impatiently awaiting Piggy and his auntie’s arrival.

“Ugh, what's taking them so long?” Ralph complained, the fake fangs garbling his words.

“Come now, Ralph, be patient. It's not like every house’ll run out of sweets or anything if we don't start exactly at nightfall.”

Simon took off his headband and scratched his head, shoving the long dark cords of hair backward and out of his face. He placed the band back on, the wire halo of fake white down attached to it bouncing as he brought his head up.

It was an oddly fitting costume for his character, Ralph thought, and it disappointed him in a way. Simon was probably the kindest, gentlest person he knew, so the angel getup worked well for him, but Ralph couldn't help wanting to see a different side of him. After all, Ralph wasn't a blood-sucking creature of the night all year long. The entire point of the holiday is to be something you're not. That and get a boatload of candy, of course.

The door in front of them swung open, and there stood Piggy, disappointment and guilt written across his face.

“Sorry fellas,” he stated, his tone reflecting the heaviness of his heart, “the whole thing's off. We can't go trick-or-treating.”

“ _ What?! _ ” Ralph exclaimed, excess saliva produced due to his fangs sputtering everywhere, “But you said your auntie would bring us!”

“She would've,” Piggy explained, “but things came up. She didn't expect anyone to order any candy tonight, because of the holiday, but I guess more people like to wait ‘til the last minute than she thought. She's gonna be real busy tonight, and there's no way she’d let me go out alone, so…”

Ralph kicked at a dead leaf on the sidewalk and crossed his arms, “Ugh, this sucks!”

“I know,” Piggy concurred, “This was gonna be my first time trick-or-treating, too. I never really had a reason to do it 'til you guys came along. I bet it would've been lots of fun…”

Simon rubbed his chin in thought and pulled up a bit of his white robe, revealing a regular pair of shorts underneath (a bit inappropriate for the weather, but long pants under a robe like that would've been too hot). He reached in his pocket and pulled out his phone, tapped the call button by a contact, and put it to his ear.

There was a few seconds of delay, where Simon just stood there idly, then there was an indistinct voice on the other end that blathered for a bit, to the point where Simon couldn't get a word in edgewise.

“Yeah, yeah, it's me, Simon,” he said finally, “Yeah, I know we haven't talked in a while, that's why I'm calling. Look, I know you guys are trick-or-treating tonight and I wanted to ask if I could come along.”

A pause.

“Uh-huh. Good. I’ll be bringing Ralph and Piggy, if that's okay.”

Another pause. Simon's eyebrows furrowed.

“What do you mean, I have to talk to him about it? The whole reason I called you and not him directly is because you're better at convincing him of things than me. He likes you better. Can't you at least try?”

Yet another pause. He waited for a bit and then nodded.

“Okay. Thanks a million. I’ll stay on the line. Tell me what he says when you're done.”

He lowered the phone away from his face and waited. Ralph, who had, along with Piggy, been watching this whole exchange, glanced back to the fat boy. He finally took the time to look his costume over. It was quite… underwhelming. It consisted of some mint-colored scrubs, a covering tight against his head of the same shade, a medical mask which rested under his chin, and a brown leather medical bag.

“What are you supposed to be, anyway?”

“Oh, I’m the scariest thing of all!” Piggy said with dramatic flare, “I’m the dentist you see  _ after _ Halloween!”

Ralph looked him over again, disappointment evident on his face, “Uh… huh… real scary, alright...”

Piggy frowned, rubbing the back of his neck shamefully, eyes averting Ralph’s gaze.

“I thought I was being clever…”

They stood there quietly facing each other, Piggy shuffling his feet awkwardly and Ralph taking out his phony fangs and stretching out the cramps in his jaw.

Simon marched up towards them, a smile broad on his face.

“Well boys!” He said, punctuating it with a clap, “We’ve got ourselves an escort! They should be here any minute.”

“I’ll go tell my auntie!” Piggy squeaked, swinging the door back open excitedly, “Oh, this’ll be so great!”

He shut it behind him, laughing giddily. Ralph couldn't help but sigh in embarrassment.

“Oh, come on Ralph, get off his case,” Simon told him piously, “It's his first time trick-or-treating, he’s allowed to feel happy about it.”

“I know, it's just… I’m worried about him fussing it up and getting in the way. I want my candy.”

“Ralph,” Simon replied in a lecturing voice, “You and I both know that's not what's important. You’ll be glad he came along tonight, trust me.”

Ralph’s mouth drew into a small frown and he looked away, not in the mood for Simon's breed of subtle yet disaster-implying soothsaying. His head now turned in another direction, he heard more clearly the crunching of dead leaves as three figures approached, one a blot of bright red that contrasted greatly with the coolness of color in the autumn evening. Ralph recognized it immediately.

“Hello, Jack,” he greeted coldly, peering up at him, his eyes narrow.

“Oh, my! It looks like someone is excited, isn't he?” Jack remarked on his reception sarcastically, “And just what are you supposed to be?”

Ralph remembered his plastic fangs and put them back into his mouth.

“Ah, I see… a vampire... how original…” Jack joked.

Ralph’s eyes darted across his rival’s gettup, trying to think of a witty retort. It was a red onesie, with a long fake pointed tail bobby-pinned to the back that dragged on the ground, and a headband with horns stuck on top.

“W-well, at least I got the memo that we’re supposed to be wearing  _ costumes _ , Jack. You just look about the same as you always do.”

Ralph wasn't sure if the insult carried the same weight as it would if he didn't have the cumbersome teeth mucking it up, but it seemed to have some effect. Jack’s mouth twitched into a grimace, not out of insult from being not-subtly called a demon, but because he knew that was way better than what he’d come up with.

The boy standing beside him wheezing with laughter at the joke didn't help matters either.

“Shut up, Maurice!” he spat.

Maurice quieted himself and lifted up his skull mask.

“Sorry, Jackie, it's just that what he said  _ really _ …”

“Don't you dare--”

“ _ Tickled my funny bone! _ ”

Jack buried his face in his hand, the other gripping the handle of his plastic pumpkin bucket tightly, “Dear God, you're hopeless…”

“Oh, come on, Jack, it's not my fault you don't find my skeleton puns…  _ humerus! _ ”

Jack groaned and looked back to Ralph with suffering eyes, “He’s been making them all. night. long. It's been slowly killing me. I'm dying, Ralph.”

Ralph couldn't help but feel sympathetic. It's not like he could do any better at surviving Maurice's a-pun-calypse. But even still, Jack’s pain and his melodramatics describing it were also very amusing, so he let out something of a half-chuckle in response.

“So, Simon!” the “demon” addressed the boy in heavenly gettup, “Are we going to get started, or…?”

“We're waiting for Piggy,” answered Simon, “He’ll be out any second now.”

“Oh, of course…” Jack muttered strangely, “him…”

Simon, ignoring this, glanced the other party over.

“Hey, didn't you say Roger was with you guys?”

“What are you talking about, he’s right--” Jack gestured beside himself and turned, but found Simon was right, and that no one was standing there. He pivoted all the way behind himself.

“Come on, stop hiding! It's not that bad!”

“You’re lying and you know it…” Roger's voice growled.

Jack grabbed him by the arm and flung him forward for all to see, “Come on, you big baby!”

Roger stumbled before them, and the source of his embarrassment was obvious. Head to toe, he was clad in a bunny suit, the brownish-black fur coming off in patches, the lighter mesh of the costume showing. The long rabbit ears didn't seem sure if they wanted to stand up or flop down.

Ralph started cackling so hard he almost choked on his fake teeth.

_ “A-a little bunny rabbit?!” _

Roger's face flushed and he yelled, “I’m a  _ not _ a little bunny rabbit! I'm a giant,  _ killer _ rabbit!”

Jack leaned against the steaming Roger, “He needed a costume 'cus he didn't have any at home. The only one I had that fit him was  _ this _ one, from years ago, 'cus he’s so  _ wittle _ !” He explained, teasingly pinching one of Roger's cheeks.

Roger angrily pushed him away, which Jack took in stride.

The door to the candy shop opened again, and Piggy stepped out.

“Alright guys, I’m ready to--”

He stopped in his tracks when he spotted Jack.

He looked over to Simon, “W-what’s he doing here?”

“He’s been trick-or-treating with Maurice, along with Roger,” the angel boy informed him, “Maurice's mom’s car is just a little ways back. We're gonna go with them.”

“Oh, great…” Piggy sighed as he lumbered down the steps to join the group.

The cluster of boys began their travels down the sidewalk.

“What's the matter, Doc?” Maurice asked playfully as he trotted up to Piggy, referring to his costume.

This was something that wouldn't have been expecting a month ago. Maurice and Piggy, despite knowing of each other, were basically strangers before. That changed, however, when Maurice was signed up for a peer tutoring program against his will at the beginning of the school year, and Piggy just so happened to be his tutor. Now that they had spent some time alone together, they had grown into something of an odd couple, much to Jack’s chagrin.

“It's just…” Piggy’s gaze drifted across the leaf-spattered sidewalk, “I don't see why you had to bring them along. Or at least Jack, anyway.”

Maurice sighed, and said in a light, fluttering voice, “Well, y’know, he’s my friend, and friends--”

“I'm allergic to chocolate,” Jack interrupted the soppy, fake explanation with the genuine one, “So any chocolate I get I give to him. So he pretty much gets twice the candy every time.”

Maurice grinned sheepishly and shrugged, his manipulative strategy out.

Piggy didn't seem to care much about him cheating the system, however, and instead remarked, “Why doesn't it surprise me that he's allergic?”

He was quiet for a second, then rattled off on a half-baked train of thought.

“I guess maybe I see it-- well, not really see it, I know better than that, but get the impression-- that somebody could only be that  _ nasty _ to people ‘cause they've never tasted chocolate and they're sore about it...”

“Well, I bet you’d know a lot about tasting chocolate, wouldn't you, Fatty?” Jack mocked.

Piggy, cheeks flushing red with embarrassment, pulled the medical mask over his face and said nothing more.

It wasn't long before the group came upon their first inviting street, and the majority of them skipped up each house’s steps to the door and collecting their rewards. Piggy hung back from this, obviously, as he could get as much candy as he wanted at home anyway. But, oddly enough, he soon noticed that Jack was staying behind on the sidewalk as well.

“Hey, what’re you doing back here? Why aren't you up there with the rest of 'em?” he asked on one of the rounds.

Jack was idly swinging his tail around in one hand.

“Like I said before, I’m allergic to chocolate. Most of the stuff they give out is chocolate, so I don't even bother anymore. I just let Maurice use me as a prop for sympathy candy.”

Piggy looked him over suspiciously.

“If that's so, why do you still have that big bucket?”

Jack didn't get the opportunity to justify that, as the rest came back down and they went on their merry way. However, Piggy couldn't help but notice now that Jack’s plastic pumpkin bucket made a rattling noise with each step he took, which was suspect for someone who supposedly didn't have anything in it…

The rest of their trick-or-treating was relatively uneventful, and soon the boys piled into Maurice's mom’s car, sharing their hauls.

“Ugh, why do people even hand these stupid things out?” Ralph complained, pulling one of those tiny Bible pamphlets out of his bag, “Saying I’ll burn in hellfire for dressing up in a silly monster costume and taking sweets from strangers. Hmph! Can't people just have fun, for once?”

He spotted Jack at the window seat in his demonic disguise and was struck with an impish fancy.

“Begone, Satan!” he jokingly shouted, throwing the little paper book at Jack's face.

Jack, not looking very amused, picked it up off the car floor and threw it back. Ralph caught it and was about to throw it again when Simon, sitting between them and already greatly annoyed, yanked it away from him and stuffed it in his own bag.

Roger, meanwhile, sifted through his own pillowcase.

“Hey,” he stated flatly, unearthing a strange lump from the bottom, “I got a rock.”

“Ah, that's disappointing…” said Piggy sympathetically.

“No, man, you don't get it,” Maurice told him with a chuckle, “He’s happy about it. That's his happy face.”

Piggy studied the boy in the bunny suit and found that he was, in fact, wearing a slight smirk.

“Why do you hang around with these people?” he whispered, baffled.

“It's like with you, you goober. When you're stuck in the same place with people long enough, they grow on you, in all their weirdness…”

Piggy shrugged and sat there between the two quietly, while Roger turned the stone around in his hands.

Soon the vehicle came to a stop, and the boys stepped out. They found themselves at the end of the driveway of the Merridew's large house. The lights within pulsated many colors and music could faintly be heard. The group stood there in the same spot, waving and saying their goodbyes to Mrs. Walsh as she drove off.

When they were sure she was gone, Jack slumped in posture and screamed “FINALLY!” into the sky.

He gestured to the rest to follow him somewhere, in a direction that definitely wasn't up to his house, “C’mon, let's get this party started  _ for real! _ ”

“Aw yeah!” Maurice whooped, running to his side. Roger trotted up with them in excitement as well.

The other three stood there in confusion. Ralph pointed up to the house, “But what about the--”

“Relax, Blondie, I already let Bill get things cooking up there. We’ll be back here soon enough, we just need to get a few things done first. Besides, it's better to be fashionably late anyway.”

The trio exchanged glances. Ralph shrugged, supposing that they were the ones who intruded on the other three’s night, so they might as well join them in whatever activity they were planning to partake in. Simon and Piggy reluctantly followed his lead, and soon they all were off to the races.

Firstly, Jack took them to a secret hiding spot in his yard to stash their candy, if they so desired, as apparently whatever they were going to do would go smoother without bulky bags and buckets. All took advantage of this, especially Maurice, whose bucket was practically brimming with sympathy candy, except Jack himself. No, he still carried his candy-less (yet somehow still with some sort of shifting contents) plastic pumpkin bucket the whole way to wherever they were going. It took quite a bit of sneaking about the neighborhood until they reached what seemed to be, according to Jack's satisfied expression, their destination.

It was a gigantic iron gate, imposing in its size and gothic design. However, it appeared to have seen better days, as it was also quite rusty, with vines twisted around the bars. There was one part that looked fairly new, though: a great metal chain looped about the two bars where one might push the gate open, with a large padlock dangling from it. Beyond the iron fence they could see grassy, unkempt hills, dotted with the gloomy gray of gravestones. Piggy, Simon, and Ralph immediately understood what they had unwittingly signed themselves up for.

“I… I don't know about this, Jack…” said Ralph uneasily.

“What are you, chicken?”

“N-no!” Ralph asserted, face flushed, “It's just… what if we got caught?”

“Psshaw! We won't get caught. Nobody's looked after this place routinely in years. They just lock it up on mischief night to keep kids like us out.”

“But, regardless, a graveyard is sacred ground,” Simon pointed out, “don’t you think disturbing it will lead to some sort of… bad karma?”

“Oh please!” Jack rolled his eyes, “They're all dead, Simon. Long dead. It doesn't matter anymore.”

“Okay,” Piggy butted in, “but it doesn't matter none how wrong or right it is-- look at that gate! It's locked and chained shut! How’d you even get inside?”

“Oh! That's where  _ you _ come in!” Jack poked the fake dentist in the chest.

“Huh?”

“What? Did you think I was just gonna let you come along with us for free?!” Jack almost laughed at the notion it was so silly, “Not a chance! Now get up there and climb that gate!”

“C-c-climb the gate?!” Piggy sputtered, “Jack, I can't do that! What if my asthma starts acting up? What if I fall?! What if I cut my finger on the rusty metal and get tetanus?!”

“Piggy, if you already got the shot, you’ll be fine…” the angel boy beside him sighed with an eye roll.

“Well, it's better safe than sorry,” Piggy retorted with a self-assured nod.

“Oh, tetanus, shmetanus!” Jack interjected, getting behind Piggy and pushing him forward, “You're gonna climb that gate, like it or not! You’ve already crossed the bridge, Fatty, now you've got to pay the toll!”

“Yeah, go on, Piggy!” Maurice bolstered, “Do it!”

He started chanting the unpleasant nickname, then Jack joined in, then Roger. The chanting multiplied, layered, and intensified with each repetition, beating on the subject’s eardrums like it were some sort of magic incantation. Even Ralph got swept up in the passion of it all.

“Alright, alright already!” he finally gave in. He turned to the towering gate, sighed, and grabbed hold of the bars.

Slowly, surely, the fat boy began his ascent. His whole body shivered in terror as he shifted and placed his feet on the rungs of rusty metal over and over, each time a bit higher. The fence itself, rickety as the old thing was, quaked in kind, which didn't sit well with him at all. In fact, the higher up, the worse it seemed to get. As he was nearing the top of the gate, he felt and heard some unseen portion of the material buckle.

“J-Jack!” Piggy yelped, “Get me doooooooooown!”

The last syllable unnaturally elongated as the aged gate collapsed inward, and Piggy landed on the ground along with it with a loud crash.

“Oof…” he grumbled, the word wobbly as the fence and therefore himself vibrated from the impact. Soon he slowly rose and crawled around, patting about the immediate area in search of his glasses, which launched off his face due to the jolt of the unhappy landing. Other boys rushed past him, whooping and hollering and bounding. The caped, blonde vampire hung back for a few seconds, but seeing that Piggy wasn't seriously injured, ran off to join the others. A figure in white stood above the phony dentist and presented him with the missing spectacles.

“Thanks Simon,” he said as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “you're a lifesaver.”

Simon, being the humble boy he was, turned away shyly, foam wings jutting out of the back of his costume glittering in the moonlight as they swung with him. Piggy stood himself up and the pair pressed onward to join the rest of the group.

Piggy glanced back at the fallen gate with a knot in his stomach. Of course he couldn't just have a nice time with his friends, he had to get used by someone in some way. Jack heard he was coming along and incorporated him into his plan, using his weight to break the gate’s rusted hinges without any regard for his safety or feelings on the matter. That sort of objectification was something he was used to, but still couldn't stand.

Soon they found the rest, gathered around an ancient dead tree in the center of the complex, branches bare and gnarled, that overlooked a huge swath of tombstones.

“They say, hundreds of years ago, that there was no cemetery here, just this tree,” Jack crept out in front of them, spinning a yarn with delightful flare, “That was until strange things started happening in the village. Awful, wicked, unexplainable things. Death and destruction on a scale the little town couldn't bare, and they buried the bodies down there. Soon enough they found out why-- they had a witch in their midsts. They rooted her out, as they did back then, and hanged her up on that bough, right there. Her neck, they say, it didn't snap right away. They had to leave her there as she choked. As she slowly died, the rope cutting into the skin of her throat, the last thing she saw were the graves of her own victims.”

He paused, turning his back to them, trailing his hand down the tree’s bark, “Some say that her ghost still haunts this graveyard to this very day, and that's why it's been abandoned. Because it’s said that those who disturb her final resting place…”

The air hung silent, tension thickening every half-second. Then, suddenly, he turned and lunged for Ralph, grabbing him by the shoulder and screaming into his face, “ _ FACE HER WRATH! _ ”

Ralph shrieked in response, nearly jumping out of his skin. Jack sniggered and teased in a singsong voice, “Got you!”

The vampire smacked him on the shoulder ineffectively, blushing. “N-no you didn't!” he lied.

“Relax, Blondie, we’re just having some fun here. And what's Halloween without a good scare?”

Ralph harrumphed and crossed his arms. Jack got the hint and left his side, instead swooping down and grabbing the handle of his large pumpkin bucket. Now back standing before the group, he reached inside and handed Roger a can of red spray paint, gave Maurice several rolls of toilet paper, and pulled out a carton of eggs for himself. With a rousing shout from the devil boy, the three got to work absolutely desecrating the area. Raw eggs splattered across the landscape. Names of those long passed on were blotted out with splotches of red. The branches of the tree were strung up with two-ply white streamers.

“C’mon, Ralph!” Jack encouraged, holding an egg out temptingly, “Why don't you give that old witch a piece of your mind?”

Ralph took it. “I oughta give  _ you _ a piece of my mind,” he chuckled, jokingly making a throwing motion at his friendly enemy. Then, turning away a little, he looked at the egg, then over to the tree, then back again. Well, he supposed there wasn't any harm in it. It was just one egg, and just one tree. So, he wound up and pitched it at the trunk, making a direct hit.

Jack cheered and threw one of his own. Thus, they both vandalized the tree in turns, making a game out of it, laughing like maniacs. Roger, seeing the pair's fun, joined with them in throwing things. However, since he didn't have any eggs, he instead chucked the rock he’d obtained from trick-or-treating, which he had apparently still been carrying. It struck the wood with a loud, splintering crack. Roger howled with laughter.

Piggy and Simon watched the chaotic display surrounding them with silent, disgusted horror. Maurice, trouncing about both of them with his paper flowing behind him like a ribbon dancer, saw their distress with the situation and looked at them with concern.

“Come now, you too, it's not that bad,” he assured, “It's just good fun! It's not as if we’re hurting anyone! Maybe if you tried it for yourselves...?”

“No. No way.”

Simon stated it bluntly, his arms crossing over each other.

“Aww, why not?”

“Because it’s wrong, and you know it. That’s why you’re doing it!”

Simon was angry. It wasn’t loud or over-the-top or anything, but it was still very much evident. Piggy had never seen him angry, and it appeared that this sight was so rare that Maurice seemed surprised as well.

He huffed, walking over to the defaced tree.

He gestured to it with his outstretched hand, “You guys doing stuff like this is why we barely hang out anymore! I never wanted to be a part of this kind of thing, ever! So there’s no way I’d take part of this now!”

He punctuated this by moodily leaning on the tree’s trunk. This last bit of force was the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back. On a literal level, Simon’s weight exacerbated the cracks in the dead wood Roger made and Ralph and Jack accentuated in their barrage, and the whole thing tipped over, plowing into dozens of graves and turning the tree itself into wood chips.

The six boys just stood there in complete silence, absorbing what just happened.

“Whoo! Yeah, Simon! That was awesome!” Jack bellowed through the all-consuming thrill of mass destruction.

“Uhh, Jack…” Roger prodded him in the side with his elbow.

“Oh. Yeah. We’re trespassing. So that means we’re supposed to… be quiet.” He breathed in through his teeth, making a sharp hissing noise, and winced. “Yeah... we better get out of here…”

So the two ran away, leaving the other four in the dust.

“H-hey!” Maurice called after them, starting to give chase, “W-wait for me!”

Ralph, terrified of the consequences, followed suit.

Piggy, breaking out of his stupor, was the only one who went to comfort the little angel, who stood still as a statue as he stared down at the damage he caused.

“Come on, Simon, it’s not your fault. Let’s g--”

He’d gotten closer and put a hand on the other boy’s shoulder in an attempt to console, but it was in doing this that he found that Simon had gone completely rigid, yet his frame quivered.

“Simon?”

Piggy looked into his face. His pupils were miniscule, wavering yet hyper-focused, and his eyelids drooped unnaturally. His mouth moved and sounds came out of it, but whatever words they were meant to be were slurred and warped beyond recognition.

“Oo… lil… onsers… ‘ll erm… oo…”

“Simon!”

Suddenly, his joints unbuckled, his eyes shut, and the disoriented angel collapsed directly on top of the pudgy dentist.

“ _ GUYS! _ ” Piggy screamed, his nonexistent upper body strength already crumbling as he tried to physically support his friend, “ _A LITTLE HELP HERE?!_ ”

Luckily, Ralph and Maurice were still within earshot, and looked back. Upon seeing that Simon had succumbed to another one of his fainting spells, they immediately rushed over to help, each holding him up on either side when Piggy handed him over. The two carefully walked Simon’s unconscious body out of the cemetery, Piggy not far behind.

As the group fled the scene, Piggy couldn’t help but look back with guilt tugging at his heart. It had been a fine, respectable, if dilapidated place, a shrine to those long gone, and now it was ruined, thanks to all of them. Yes, all of them. They all played some part in destroying that place, intentionally or not, even himself and Simon.

Well, he supposed it didn't matter all too much. Or at least, that's what he told himself. Even if he was fairly sure there was no one around to see what they’d done, he couldn't shake the feeling that there were going to be some very real consequences for their actions in that graveyard, and the retributive force that was to enact those repercussions upon them was breathing down his neck.

…in a strictly metaphorical sense, of course…

Yes… of course...


	2. Getting the Party Started (But Not in a Good Way)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys go to Jack's Halloween party, and Piggy is left by his lonesome as his other friends attend to their own business. However, the evening picks up in the worst way imaginable when he observes that most of them seem to be coming down with a strange illness. An illness with some potentially very dangerous ramifications.

It took the four a while to reach Jack's house again, what with the extra person’s worth of precious cargo, but at about the time they arrived at the end of the driveway, Simon was starting to slowly regain consciousness.

“Mmm… wha? Where… am I? What happened?” He glanced about and addressed the people holding him up, voice breathy and barely above a whisper.

“You blacked out,” Maurice stated, “You know, when you were looking at that tree?”

Ralph and Piggy nodded and made noises of confirmation.

“The tree?” Simon spoke, seeming to vaguely recall, “I wasn't looking at the tree, I was looking at…”

He trailed off in his typical timid manner. Simon always had a difficulty with words, but it was especially pronounced whenever he tried to describe his episodes.

“Did you forget to take your medication this morning?” Ralph changed the subject with a soft, worried look in his eyes.

“I... thought I did…” the cradled child went on, “I-I don't know, maybe I didn't and just thought I did, b-but I could’ve sworn…”

Maurice's pupils flickered, searching about his memory.

“I think Jack still has that bottle of your meds you left there for sleepovers. Do you want us to walk you up?”

Simon cautiously unhooked the arms slung around the boys’ shoulders and scratched an itch on his forearm, simultaneously easing his feet to the pavement.

“No, no, I’m fine. I can stand.”

The trio let him stroll a little bit ahead as they walked up to the house. Just a little bit, of course. They didn't want to risk a relapse and Simon cracking his skull open on Jack Merridew’s driveway because they couldn't catch him in time. The lights and beat of the music playing within the house throbbed, and the boys were suddenly reminded that tonight was a holiday. No, none of them really felt in much of a partying mood, but perhaps it would give them some much needed relief from the evening's stresses.

Piggy had been ordered to carry up some of the bags of candy before they'd set off. As he juggled buckets and plastic bags along his own leather medical bag, trying to prevent his arms from tiring, he found himself absentmindedly studying Simon as they trekked upward. The angelic boy was scratching at himself… quite a bit. His arms, his legs, his neck, everywhere… he was rather feverish about it as well. How curious. Piggy theorized maybe his outfit was chafing, or that it was his nerves acting up in anticipation of being thrust into a social setting, or even that it was an obscure side effect of his condition that Piggy wasn't familiar with. Either way, he was sure it wasn't anything to worry about.

They trotted inside and Simon bolted upstairs, likely to a bathroom that contained his extra medication in its medicine cabinet, itching himself all the while.

When the angelic boy exited from view, the remaining three could properly absorb their surroundings. The Merridew residence was packed (and that was saying something, given its size) with nearly every kid from school, even ones that were definitely far too young to be there unsupervised. Everyone was wearing a kitschy costume, which was to be expected for a Halloween party. The music blared and the lights beat down. Piggy found it all a bit overwhelming, but Ralph and Maurice seemed right at home. They dissolved into the crowd, and Piggy was left by himself.

It wasn't as if Piggy was antisocial or anything, or even all that introverted. In fact, he was quite outgoing. It was just that he had some difficulties in the process of socializing, both internal and external, and the chaotic atmosphere of a party only accentuated that. He wriggled his way around the room to find a wall to lean against. In doing so, he bumped into two short, younger boys.

“Oh, I’m sorry about that!” He quickly apologized.

“Oh, no, no! It's fine--”

“--we’re fine!”

The twins Sam and Eric gathered themselves together, dusting themselves off. They wore corresponding yet contradictory outfits, one dressed as a salt shaker and the other pepper, but it certainly didn’t help in distinguishing them.

“What nice costumes!” Piggy complimented.

“Thanks! Yours looks… uh…”

“Neat?”

He knew they didn't really think so, but he accepted the pseudo-praise anyway.

“So, where have you been?” asked the pepper, “The party's been on for a while now.”

“Oh, I, uh-- Ralph, Simon, and I went trick-or-treating with Jack and his buddies,” he said quickly, not wanting to dwell on earlier events, “He and Roger went ahead before the rest of us. Where is he, anyway?”

“They ran in not too long ago. They both seemed sick or something.”

“Sick?” First Simon wasn’t feeling well, now Jack and Roger? How strange...

The salt picked up the conversation for his brother, “Yeah. Roger was all pale and looked like he was gonna throw up. He flew upstairs real quick to Jack's room, and nobody’s seen him since. Jack was shivering and wandering around complaining about chills. We don’t know where he is now.”

“They must’ve eaten some bad candy or something,” commented the pepper.

Salt gasped. “You don't think some stranger poisoned their candy, do you?”

“Actually,” Piggy interjected, “that's an urban legend. There's never been a recorded instance of a person being poisoned by a stranger on Halloween via candy. The legend actually comes from a man in Texas who poisoned his own son’s Halloween treats to collect the life insurance money.”

The twins gave him an odd look.

“What? My auntie taught me that. It's common candymakers’ trivia.”

“...yeah, must've been expired, then,” the pepper shaker told his brother, using Piggy's information but not wanting to acknowledge him. The pair turned to each other as they spoke on about the subject, metaphorically and literally closing Piggy off from the conversation. Piggy could sense he was no longer wanted, and sadly drifted away into the sea of guests. And as he did so, he was about to let the subject of the exchange be swept from his mind as well, but it snagged on something in his head and he took pause.

How could Jack get sick from eating out-of-date candy if he didn’t get any candy to eat in the first place?

* * *

 

_Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone._

It ran through Simon's head over and over like the dull drumbeat of the music outside as he scratched himself in a frenzy. He stood there in only his underwear, his heavenly garb abandoned, attacking the huge welts that had suddenly formed all over his body. His skin felt like it was on fire.

He could still see her. Her yellow teeth and putrid flesh that blackened and flaked near her extremities like the bark of a tree. The rope burns around her neck.

_“You little monsters. I’ll learn you. I’ll learn you well! When I'm done with you, you won't need those disguises. Everyone will see you as you truly are, you disgusting little creatures.”_

His eyes screwed tight. In the back of his mind, inexplicably, he remembered that he had, indeed, taken his medication that morning.

_Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone._

Was that him or her?

Then it happened. He’d scraped so hard that he started breaking skin. All at once, a pustule on his arm burst. Except there was no pus, no blood. It didn’t even go down, not even a little. There was just a loose flap of skin draped over the lump. Simon watched it, at first just relieved the irritation in the area stopped, but now very much aware what he was seeing wasn’t natural and also feeling very much afraid.

The skin, through the methodical movement of a series of muscles Simon was sure he didn’t have until this point, peeled back like a brown curtain, revealing underneath the white and ring of hazel and deep, black center of a human eye.

The scream that was heard moments later was attributed by the majority of partygoers to the cheesy sound effects on a Halloween album.

* * *

 

Piggy at last found a wall to lean on eventually, one near the entrance to some closed-off den. It must’ve been some place Jack’s parents particularly prized and wanted to keep tidy at all costs, otherwise he doubted Merridew would have ensured sparing it the same fate as the rest of the house. He’d also found his way to the refreshments beforehand, and held a solo cup of punch in his hand. Now that he found a nice, calm place, he was starting to enjoy himself a little. He could see all the way to the kitchen from here, overlooking the living room where Maurice was singing Halloween karaoke not to long ago. Ralph was leaning against the kitchen’s island, talking to some kids who were way more popular than Piggy would ever be. He took a swig of sugary fruit punch to drown out the twinge of bitterness in his heart.

When the rim of the cup sank from his view, a new face took it up instead. New for this night, anyway. In truth, Piggy was very much familiar with the boy attached to it. He tutored his older cousin.

“Marcus!” he exclaimed.

“Hi!” the younger boy greeted back.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be back home with your parents?” he fussed over him like a mother hen, “Kids your age shouldn’t be out alone, ya know.”

“I’m not. Henry and Robert brought me. Erm, uh, Robert’s dad, my uncle, he made him...”

Piggy could envision it-- the beleaguered sighs and resigned looks of an older boy taking his little brother and cousin on an outing. They had such pride, kids his age. They were so easily embarrassed by these sorts of things, and he never could grasp why. Piggy always enjoyed the company of little kids. He loved helping them and teaching them little things and telling them stories. He also enjoyed the company of adults as well, and he liked to think that perhaps they did too. Come to think of it, it just seemed to be his own age bracket he had trouble with…

“So, what do you think?”

Marcus stepped back and put his costume on display. Clothing-wise it was nothing special: ragged, stained hand-me-downs in washed out colors. His cheeks were coated with patchy green paint, and under the eye surrounded by his mulberry birthmark was taped a ping-pong ball on a red string. It took Piggy a few seconds to comprehend what he was seeing.

“Oh, what a cool-looking zombie!” he praised finally.

“Thanks! My mom helped me make it!” Marcus was beaming.

Piggy sighed in a bittersweet way. He wished somebody would put that little bit of effort into appreciating his own costume, or at least pretending that they did. What would it take to get a little positive attention around here?

He never meant to invite anything with that thought. But, damn if didn’t invite something fierce.

The blonde vampire was stumbling across the dance floor, like a marionette attached to a careless puppeteer's strings. His normally tanned skin expressed a paleness the likes of which Piggy had never seen before. Ralph shoved little Marcus out of the way.

“Piggy…” he whined, voice barely audible.

Ralph’s legs gave way and he fell on top of pudgy dentist. Piggy clung to his sick friend, trying to hold him up. His brain was in the tizzy. Oh, what he could do to help? The boy needed a place to rest, away from all these people. Where would that be? Then he remembered the den. That secluded little room right beside him. He opened the door and, luckily, found a couch within.

“Oh, thank goodness…” Piggy huffed. He hauled Ralph inside the room and dropped him on the sofa.

“I'm so thirsty…” Ralph moaned, the rich brown of his half-lidded eyes flickering strangely.

“I’ll go get you something!” Piggy proposed, panicked for his friend’s health, “I'm sure I saw some soda in the kitchen…”

He turned and started to leave, but for some reason, some signal in his brain misfired, and he stood there, back turned to Ralph, his body completely rigid. He sensed those lovely brown eyes boring into him from behind. They were magnetic in their warmth of color, as if Piggy were a moth and the eyes were a hypnotic, dancing flame.

“ _Help me, Piggy…_ ” he heard Ralph say, but somehow it sounded more like it was inside his head, “ _I need your help. You have something you can give me that’ll make me better. You know well enough what it is. It’s flowing all through you. I need it. Give it to me. You won’t even miss it any. Don't you want to help?_ ”

Piggy felt as though he were floating as he turned and started walking back towards his friend on the couch, his brain somehow unable to process how terrifying it was having the rest of his body move without its input. Instead, a peculiar calm had washed over him, and all he could think of was how glad he was to be helpful. He stood over Ralph on the couch and then, slowly, without any conscious effort, he bent down and opened up the medical bag he’d left on the floor, and pulled out a sickle-shaped probe, the kind he’d felt dentists poke his gums with plenty of times before. He held out his left arm, still locked in a haze, and drew the sharp point of the instrument close to the soft flesh below his wrist, every nerve in his body compelling him to pierce it and slice downward. The cold steel of the hook had barely made contact with his skin when he realized something that snapped him out of his trance.

“This is metal,” he stated, then pulled it away, blinking quickly, as if he'd been woken up from a daydream, “This… this is a real tool. A real medical tool. Why… why do I have this?”

He fished through the bag, pulling out dental tool after dental tool, more than a bag of that size had any right to carry. He held a mouth mirror in his hand and stared at his own tiny reflection.

“Where did all this come from?! This was only a prop! It was empty!”

Just then, he saw something in the mirror that made him jump. Or rather, it was the lack of something that made him jump. It was Ralph's costume, slinking on the couch towards him. It was billowed out in such a way that it looked as if it was filled with a person, but no one was inside. Piggy felt a cold, clammy hand touch his shoulder and he jerked away, turning to face what he was sure up until that moment was his friend. Seeing him up close, he noticed that the plastic vampire teeth were missing. In their place were two long, sharp, very real and very threatening canines.

“Oooh my… oooh my…” Piggy whimpered as he crawled backward, Ralph closing in for the kill. His hand frantically patted at the instruments scattered on the floor, praying he’d find something useful for the current situation. He felt his fingers wrap around something thick and plastic and hard, and Ralph opened his jaw and let out a blood-curdling hiss. Thinking quickly, Piggy shoved what turned out to be a bite block into Ralph’s open maw, and Ralph sat and struggled against the piece of plastic to close his mouth. Piggy could sense that the bite block wouldn't hold long, however. So, mind going a mile a minute, he plunged both hands into the medical bag, searching for a longer-lasting solution. He felt something big and metal and heaved it out.

It was a canister labeled N2O.

Nitrogen, oxygen…

Nitrous oxide.

Laughing gas.

He glanced at the mask and hose attached to it and ripped them off, twisted the valve, and ran out of there like a bat out of hell. This was fortunate timing, as Ralph had just snapped the bite block to bits and pounced after him. Piggy had barely escaped within an inch of his life, the cape of Ralph’s costume getting caught in the door from all the wind Piggy worked up. He ripped the cape out and stuffed it in the space under the door, to let as little of the gas out as possible.

He stood up, leaning his back against the door, panting, trying to make sense of what he'd just witnessed.

Ralph… was… a real vampire. There was no way of getting around it. Those teeth were genuine. He had no reflection. He’d taken over Piggy's head and almost made him mutilate himself with a look alone. For his blood, Piggy knew now. And now it made sense why he'd gotten so dizzy and pale. He was anemic. It made sense, but still… it seemed so... fantastical…

On a less terrifying and more just confusing note, there was still the trouble with the prop bag. Not only that, but the nitrous oxide. He didn't know what the scientific name for laughing gas was before. He certainly wouldn't have been able to recognize the formula for it, either. At least, not until now…

So, if Ralph dressed up like a vampire and then turned into one... did that mean he was a real dentist now? And if that was what was happening, people turning into their costumes, what about everyone else? Would Jack's entire house soon be crawling with spooks? Or even the whole Halloween-celebrating world?

His chest tightened as his mind reeled at the possibilities. All this excitement was making his asthma act up again. The orange and black decorations and the sea of socializing party-goers warped and twisted around him. There was a scratching of nails against the door that vibrated down his spine. Now it seemed like it was his turn to faint.

“Hey, Piggy, are you okay?”

The voice hit him suddenly, piercing his gut, and he screamed out in pure shock.

“Whoa,” the boy marveled at the fright he caused, “is my costume _really_ that good?”

The second afterwards he recognized the figure talking to him. It was Marcus, in about the same state that Piggy had left him: in his zombie costume, his birthmark repurposed as a blood stain with the extremely fake, dangling eyeball. All of it was so familiarly phony that Piggy was incredibly relieved. He hugged the younger boy so tightly that the other felt he might burst.

“Yes, yes, it’s perfect!” Piggy cried, “I hope it never changes!”

“Uh, thanks?”

Piggy let him go, his breath labored, “Marcus, tell me… did you notice anyone looking or acting… strange?”

“Nope, just you right now. What’s the matter? Is something going on?”

“No! No! Just--”

Ralph’s intoxicated giggles muffled through the door. Marcus peered around Piggy’s girth at the door suspiciously.

“What’s happening in there? Sounds like fun…”

“No! No fun! No fun at all!” he spread his arms to block the entrance further, “Ralph’s very sick! Delirious, even! He needs lots of rest right now! Lots of it! So please, _please_ don’t bother him, okay?”

“...Okay.”

“Promise?”

Marcus seemed a little fed up with being babied like this. “Yeah, yeah…”

“Good.” He glanced about the room. Well, everyone else still _looked_ human, at least. He turned back to Marcus, “I’m gonna go… find some of my friends. I think it’s... time to leave...”

With that, they parted ways, Piggy not even bothering to look back. There were far worse manners to attend to than not giving a proper goodbye.

He scampered about the many rooms, looking for any signs of another monster’s presence. Or even just one of the friends he came to this party with…

“Maurice?!” he called occasionally when overlooking a roomful of people, “Simon?! Are you in here?!” All he wanted was someone normal. Hell, at this point, he would even take Jack and Roger, so long as they were still people...

Then, as he stood before a coat closet not far from the front door, feeling like this whole thing was a lost cause, something happened.

Some…sort of... _thing_ … some cold, hard, intricate thing, all made up of little bits… cupped over his mouth. Terror gripped his heart, but any attempt to scream was quickly blocked out, and this… _thing_ , whatever it was, discreetly yanked him into the closet and shut them both inside, despite the fat boy’s attempts to break free and his stifled shouts of protest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry not a whole lot happened in the middle, lol. i had to take some time to introduce Marcus and the twins. Marcus is what i call the birthmark kid and he's also Henry's cousin, and Henry and Robert are brothers now. none of that is really relevant to the story, but i just wanted to clarify that because that part might be confusing. also, yay cliffhangers!! the next chapter will probably be shorter than this, but who can really say? anyways, i hope you liked this!


	3. Skeleton in the Closet (Also a Dentist is in There Too)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very short chapter with some good boys in a closet.

The closet was dark. Very, very dark. That was the first thing that struck Piggy. The next was that terrible smell. What was that? Vomit? Blood? Some kind of mixture of the two? Well, it didn’t matter right this very moment. He had bigger things to worry about, like the mystery creature that had him pinned against the door.

“Don’t scream,” the thing spoke in a hushed tone, still covering up his mouth, “Whatever you do, don’t scream. I don’t wanna draw any attention, alright? You understand?”

Piggy nodded a jittering, terrified nod.

“Good,” it said, then paused. During the lapse, the thought that its voice sounded vaguely familiar crossed Piggy’s mind, but he was too scared to dwell on it. The monster continued, “I’m gonna let go of your face, okay? You promise you won’t scream, right?”

Piggy nodded again.

“Alright.”

The creature’s grip released, and Piggy immediately went back on his word, crying out for help and pounding against the door. The beast swore and, despite its gangliness, wrestled the larger boy to the closet floor.

“Dammit, Doc! I thought out of all people, you’d be the one who’d let me explain!”

Piggy, in the midst of huffing from his lungs’ exhaustion at the whole ordeal, felt his breath catch a moment. Doc. Someone called him that earlier this evening, right? Because of his… costume…

“...Maurice?”

Piggy felt some sensation of movement from the thing on top of him, what he assumed was a head dropping in fatigued relief, “Oh, thank God. At least you recognise me…”

“Maurice, you jerk! Why’d you drag me into a closet like that, tellin’ me not to scream?! You could’ve scared me to death!”

“I’m sorry, it’s just… I didn’t wanna go outside… and have everyone… see me…”

Piggy could already guess why that was, at least in a vague sense. Maurice got off of him, and the dentist could tell he withdrew near a corner.

“Piggy, I… don’t know how to explain it, but I… my body…”

“It changed?”

Maurice went quiet a moment, then continued, “I was singing karaoke when it started. Halfway through  _ The Monster Mash, _ I just… my stomach… it started hurting so bad... I felt so sick. I thought I just ate some bad candy or something. I ducked into here because I couldn't make it to the bathroom. I threw up. I  _ kept _ throwing up. It… it wouldn't stop, Piggy. It just kept coming out…”

What costume did Maurice wear again?

Oh, right. A skeleton.

Oh...

The thought of Maurice's body digesting itself to the bone, and how much that must've terrified the boy, nearly made Piggy cry. He reached blindly into the dark to comfort his friend. His palms hit that same hard, cold, hollow object, which he now was aware was bone. His fingers grazed down his friend’s skull, and he could feel the transition from upper jaw to teeth. Curiously, he felt on further in regards to the teeth, gliding his fingers across the rows.

“Hmm, it looks like you’ve still got that tooth gap...” he said out of nowhere, the words tumbling out of his mouth as if he rehearsed it, “Have you or your parents considered partial braces? Your health insurance should cover the costs.”

The air was still a minute.

“... what?”

“What?”

“Why did you say that?”

“Well, I, uhh…” he pondered his peculiar remarks a moment, “I… don't know… it must be my costume…”

Maurice let out a small gasp, which Piggy wondered how he could even do anymore, considering he didn't currently have lungs, “You too?”

“Yeah, thankfully it’s nothing too bad for me. You should’ve seen Ralph! He almost killed me!”

“Oh my God, are you okay?!” Now his own hand reached for Piggy's cheek.

Piggy put his hand on top of Maurice's in turn, “I’m alright, but Maurice… he was tryin’ to bite me. He was gonna break the skin and suck up my blood! Like a human Capri Sun!”

Maurice said in thought, “So that's the ticket, then. People are turning into their costumes.”

“But it's not everyone, either. Everyone else at the party looked fine. It's only certain people who get--”

He cut himself off.

“What's the matter, Piggy? Did you think of something?”

“Wait a minute. You said you got sick before and while you were turning, right?”

“Yeah.”

“The same thing happened to Ralph. And Simon, he fainted pretty bad before the party, didn't he?”

“Yeah…”

“And Sam and Eric, the twins, they told me when they came in that Jack and Roger looked sick too!”

“And what does that prove? You didn't say anything about getting sick, and it still happened to you.”

“It's not about the fact they got sick at all, it's about  _ who _ did. You, me, Ralph, Jack, Simon, Roger… what's the connection 'tween us?”

“Umm, we went trick-or-treating together, but I don't see how--”

“Maurice! Think about that graveyard! Do you remember what Jack said in his story about that witch? That people who disturb her final resting place face her wrath?”

“P-Piggy!” he sputtered somehow, without lips, “That's just a dumb story! That wasn't real!”

“I know that, and if I haven't seen Ralph change into a monster right in front of me, I’d agree with you! But Maurice, think about it! We all disturbed it in some way! You guys vandalized graves, Simon knocked down the hanging tree, and I broke the gate open in the first place! Maurice, this is it! This is our punishment!”

“Punishment?! Piggy, we don't deserve to be punished! We were just being a bunch of dumb kids on Halloween! We were having fun! It was just for fun! Just for fun!”

Maurice sounded as if he were on the verge of tears, but in his current state he couldn't shed any.

“I didn’t do anything wrong! I didn’t hurt nobody! Oh, Piggy!”

Piggy felt the array of bones that made up Maurice encircle him in an embrace. He returned it and ran his hand down the back of the other’s ribcage. Maurice’s bones rattled as he whimpered, skull pressed into Piggy’s shoulder.

“Don’t you worry about it,” he said gently, “We’ll fix this, I promise you.”

Maurice lifted his skull, “How?”

“Well I, umm…” Piggy tried to formulate a plan, “I guess we could… uh…”

He sighed, “You’re right. This whole thing does look pretty bleak. I mean, how do you go about undoing a curse like this? It would take a miracle to--”

Again, he cut himself off.

“Wait. A miracle.”

“... uh, yeah, that’s what you just said…”

Piggy hopped to his feet in excitement, “Maurice! That’s it! We need a miracle!”

“Why are you saying that like it’s a good thing? Doesn’t that mean it’s basically impossible?”

“No, no, I mean, who usually does miracles?”

“Like, God or Jesus or somebody like that?”

“Right! Someone divine! And guess who just so happened to be dressed up like a heavenly being?”

Maurice, finally understanding what Piggy was getting at, sprang up to join him and answered, “Simon! We can go ask Simon for help! And of course he’ll help us, ‘cause he’s Simon!”

Piggy cheered him on for his understanding, grabbing hold of both his bony hands. When the celebration of their plan ceased, Piggy again prepared to open the door to put it into action, but took pause.

“Maurice, do you wanna go out there? I remember what you said about not wanting people to see you…”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. There’s plenty of clothes in here, I can just throw something on real quick.”

Piggy nodded and was about to open the door, but stopped again. He looked out into the darkness behind him.

“You know, I guess it’d make sense that it doesn’t bother you much anymore. After all, it’s not as if anything can  _ get under your skin!” _

The pun blindsided Maurice completely, and he burst into hardy laughter, his bones clattering against each other loudly.

“Thanks,” he wheezed afterwards, “I really needed that.”


End file.
